


Red Hair and Hand-Me-Down Robes

by PocketChekov



Series: You Must Be A Weasley (But You're Really The Boy Who Lived) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, also he's raised by the weasley's, i'm giving them a rewrite, in which Harry has his mother's hair and his father's eyes, more tags to be added later, people wanted a rewrite, plus other headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:51:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketChekov/pseuds/PocketChekov
Summary: Harry James Potter was only a little over a year old when his parents were killed by the Dark Lord.But instead of sending him off to the Dursley's, Dumbledore does the smart thing and listens to those who's opinions on the life of the child truly matter.And this is how Harry Potter finds himself growing up in the Weasley household, and attending Hogwarts.Terror and chaos ensue.(Better description to be added at a later date)





	Red Hair and Hand-Me-Down Robes

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, owners of a home more commonly known as the Burrow on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, England, were your average wizarding family. They were the parents of 7 children, and all shared the common traits of red hair and freckles. It was a large family, to be sure, but it was a family that knew how to love, and how to spread that love. 

They didn’t have much, but that didn’t mean they went without. Sure, some things had to be handed down through several of the children, but that just meant those objects had already been well-loved, and you could see it. 

The night of Halloween, news spread fast, and it was a very tired and very upset-looking Arthur Weasley who arrived home from work that night. Molly Weasley, his wife and mother of the 7 young Weasleys, didn’t want the news to be true, but from the look her husband gave her, she knew that there was no hope in it being anything but.

The pair stayed up late into the night, discussing what had happened only just earlier. James and Lily Potter were dead, leaving their infant son behind. 

The next day was a gray Tuesday that fit many a mood, although not most. 

All who were not Muggles rejoiced, for word traveled fast, and it seemed that Lord Voldemort was gone, dead, or whatever word you would prefer to use. Whichever you chose, the Dark Lord had simply disappeared on that fateful night, and it seemed his reign of terror would finally end. Many witches and wizards spent the day celebrating, going as far as to wander in the streets, without the thought of even attempting to blend in. Owls flew everywhere, at times seeming like there were so many that they would completely blot out the sky. 

As for the Weasleys, they simply went about their daily life. What more could they do? It did not seem right to be celebrating when two brave souls had died. Instead, Mr. Weasley went to another day of work, and Mrs. Weasley went about her daily work at home, keeping track of her numerous children and trying to keep the house clean and in order. It did, in fact, seem like a normal day for them, for the most part.

It wasn’t until the after the whole family had went to bed that night that things changed. 

At half-past midnight a strange man appeared out of seemingly nowhere in the middle of the Weasley’s yard, where he greeted one of the many animals that were there. This animal was, in fact, a cat. Or at least, she looked like it. She had arrived not long after the sun had started to set, watching the family through the windows. Thankfully the Weasleys didn’t find this curious at all, given they had chickens and a few random cats who would often peer through the windows to see what was going on. 

The stranger was tall, thin, and he appeared to be very old, as to be presumed by his very long hair and beard, both of which were silver in color. It seemed he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings, his focus instead on a small box in his hands. The cat, who was watching him, huffed in annoyance as she watched him approach, and before long there was not only the strange old man standing at the entrance to the Burrow, but a stern looking woman.

Albus Dumbledore, as the strange man was named, didn’t even look up from the box he was occupied with. “Ah, hello, Professor McGonagall. I must say, I’m not particularly surprised to see you here already. And am I right in saying that it is safe to assume you arrived early to make sure i hadn’t made a mistake of any kind?”

Minerva McGonagall stared at him, her voice somewhat harsh. “What else would you expect me to do, after your first suggestion? The Dursleys? Honestly, Dumbledore. What were you thinking?” Dumbledore, to his credit, simply shrugged. 

“It was simply the first option among only a handful, Professor. Simply an option. Now, I must ask, how has the Weasley family been?”

There was a moment of silence, before McGonagall spoke. “Well enough, it seems. The children don’t know, which is better than I hoped for, not that I truly thought Molly and Arthur would tell them.”

“And as for Molly and Arthur?”

 

Again, a moment of silence. “They’re keeping a brave face, but you can tell what the news has done to them. The only good news it seems to have brought them is the fact that You-Know-Who has seemingly disappeared.” 

Albus nodded thoughtfully before speaking, finally done fiddling with the box and popping a sweet of some sort in his mouth. “Ah, well. There is not much we can do to help them, not yet. Not yet. And before you ask, Sirius is on his way now. On that motorbike of his, no doubt. He should be here soon.”

McGonagall nodded, her eyes moving to stare at the night sky. Just barely, but getting louder, was a rumbling sound. And yet inside, everything remained quiet and peaceful. A few minutes later, a large motorbike with a sidecar landed gently on the ground, and McGonagall stopped for a moment to feel curious at the amount of work and magic it must have taken to make sure it could truly fly. But that wasn’t the matter at hand.

What was at hand was the small bundle of blankets nestled in the sidecar. And there, nestled in the pile of blankets, was Harry James Potter. The owner of the bike, Sirius Black, quietly removed his helmet and got off the bike before gently removing the bundle from the sidecar. And although neither of the other two standing there would say anything, the tears held back in the young man’s eyes were obvious. And they were warranted. For Sirius Black, at just 21 years old, had, in the span of a little over 24 hours, lost one of his best friends, and was being forced to hand over his best friend’s son. “He shouldn’t be here.”

 

There was a pause, and then Dumbledore spoke, his tone gentle. “I know, Sirius. But you have already told us that you are not ready to take care of a child. And remember, it was you who fought so hard to make sure he went to the Weasleys.”

Sirius nodded, and slowly, gently handed over the small bundle to the old man. Dumbledore cradled the child in one arm and pulled a small, folded piece of paper out of one of his many pockets, before gently placing both on the steps of the Burrow. McGonagall’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“A note? All he has gone through, Albus, and all he gets is a note?” Dumbledore turned to the professor, a strange look in his eye as he nodded. 

“Do you really believe that he won’t grow up with some degree of knowing who he is with living with the Weasleys? He shall learn who he is, in time. He shall learn why he is the Boy Who Lived. All in good time, Professor. All in good time.”

And with that explanation left hanging in the air, they left, one by one, until all that was left was tiny Harry, sound asleep, curled among the blankets.

And in a few hours’ time, he and the rest of the Weasley household would be awoken by 9 year old Charlie Weasley, who would stumble upon him after being sent out to collect the eggs for breakfast.

But for now, he stayed asleep, while all across the world, people were meeting in secret to toast to him, the Boy Who Lived.


End file.
